500 MILES

I will bet many people have a collection of songs, a collection that is the absolutely perfect mix for traveling down an Interstate Highway or an unknown country road. We all need at least one song, right? A song that embodies the escapist mentality in each of us.

I would have been about nine-years-old when I heard Jim Croce's "I Got a Name." I am positive that my younger self did not realize the tragic irony of this song released the day after Croce died in a plane crash on September 20th, 1973. 

In the song, the speaker is traveling a "winding road," one that is not an easy journey by any means. It is his journey, though. He is "like the singing bird or the croaking toad," both of whom have sounds that the world may group together as the same song, not realizing both have "a name" or a voice that is distinctively theirs.

Croce's haunting voice echoes defiantly about living a dream, one which so many people have kept hidden. He is "moving on down the highway" despite his own personal doubt and the dubious naysayers around him. He realizes that life's journey waits for no one, and he is determined to follow his dream even if he does not ultimately achieve it. At the very least, he has lived his life under his own purpose.

Feeling like only yesterday, decades ago I packed my car and moved to North Carolina in search of my dream of becoming a teacher. Times were challenging then in West Virginia, but I was tired of waiting for an opportunity. I spent those decades discovering so much about myself, the country, and the world. Interstate 95 had opened my road to meeting many fascinating people and having incredible experiences.

When I returned to Wheeling, I felt another dream calling me. I have always wanted to write. Sure, I had written here and there occasionally, but I wanted to write on a regular basis. "Moving me down the highway," I wanted more. Life was too short to continue wondering if I could or I should. I decided I would.

First came the Time and Space blog, which is still going strong for five years now. Then, I wrote my first book My Corner of the World. I never thought I would have the intestinal fortitude to labor joyously over a project for over a year. When these roads converged, I created 500 MILE PRESS. I wanted a publishing name. Why not?

For over thirty years, I have journeyed "500 miles" from Wilson, North Carolina, to Wheeling, West Virginia, and back again numerous times a year. That is what 500 MILE PRESS is: my journey. I have a new part of my journey, and "I could share it if you want me to. If you're going my way." 

I am happy to announce that my newest book Sunday Mornings with Coffee, Time and Space Retrospective will officially be released this Thursday, November 12th, 2020. You will be able to purchase the book and Kindle version exclusively on Amazon. 

This is kind of quirky, but I have added MY CORNER STORE to the webpage. You can click here or go to the menu at the top. I hope that you take some time to browse the store. Maybe one or two items will appeal to you.

I hope to see you on the highway!

HANGING OUT WITH MY FRIEND BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN

 

Bruce walked offstage, grabbing towel after towel to wipe the sweat from his face and arms following a torrid concert in Pittsburgh. Plenty of people surrounded Bruce, so I kept my distance as my friend made it safely to the bottom of the stage stairs where he stopped to talk to me.

"A.J., good to see you. Man, that was some crowd tonight, huh?"

The echoing chants for "Bruuuuce" ended the show but kept the feeling alive as the crowd begrudgingly left their seats for the exits. The roadies unhooked his microphone and earpieces, gave him another big bottle of water, and returned Bruce's legendary Fender Telecaster to its guitar case where it will rest before the next concert.

"Bruce, I swear I do not know what to say anymore. Always. I mean, always a classic."

Bruce smiled. Even though his body was still pumping with adrenaline, he knew I was sincere, but he wanted to know more. "Come on," he chuckled as he threw a wet towel at my face. "You gotta give me a little more than that!"

"What the hell, Bruce?" I quickly pulled the towel from my face and tossed it back at him where it fell to the ground for some errant backstage groupie to find it, stuff the towel in a plastic bag, then sell it on eBay. 

Bruce and I walked down a hallway towards a more secluded reception area. We didn't need to say much, though. Silence can be uncomfortable for many people, but when you are with a friend, the silence reflects the depth of the relationship between two people, one which both have nurtured over time.

"So, Bruce. 'Land of Hope and Dreams' tonight." He stopped to listen to me as he always does. "You know, that is—hands down—my favorite song. It is just so crazy how that song never changes throughout the years."

Bruce began to talk but stopped himself. He just smiled at me, anticipating a conclusion to my thought.

"You are gonna make me finish this even though you know damn well what I am going to say." We both laughed. Over the years, Bruce's laugh has evolved into a grizzled grandpa chortle, one which emanates warm wisdom and understanding of life itself.

"Yeah, A.J., I am going to make you finish," Bruce bellowed. Then, as if someone snapped a finger, he instantly became serious. "Go on. You were saying that 'Hope and Dreams' never changes."

"OK. So every time I hear it, I am in a different place in my life, you know. Sometimes I am driving down the road somewhere, sunny day and all. I will roll down the windows and crank it up loud. I don't care if people hear me singing. Other times, I am tired from teaching all day. You know, I am doing my own thing like you do yours on stage, and I just keep hearing "this train, faith will be rewarded" in my head. I can even feel down and depressed about the state of the world, wondering how the hell we are ever going to turn things around. "Hope and Dreams" just tells me it is all part of this journey. And tonight..."  I struggled to find those last words.

"I gotcha, buddy. I gotcha." Bruce slapped me on the shoulder as he left. "Look, I'm gonna head to the room back there. I have some other people I want to talk to." He looked me in the eyes and said, "Thanks again for coming. It really means a lot to me. I'll talk to you later, OK?"

I shook my head in feigned disappointment. "Yeah, yeah. The Boss is going to talk to me later!" We laughed again, as we have done so many times. I walked back down the hallway, out the doors of the arena, and into my world, confident that I would hear from my friend Bruce again.

Bruce and I have kept in touch over the years. Whenever I need to talk to him, he is as close as an old CD, an unexpected song on the radio, an Alexa request, or a conversation on E-Street Radio. 

Bruce and I before a concert, circa 2017
😉

COMING SOON!

Thanks for your patience.

POSTSCRIPT

We have not been able to see each other in-person as much as we would like. You know, covid and everything. Still, Bruce is determined to stay in touch. I received a fantastic letter from him the other day.

"Things I found out through hard times and good

I wrote 'em all out in ink and blood

Dug deep in my soul and signed my name true

And sent it in my letter to you"

Credits

Cover Picture:  JUST JARED, INC.

Video:  Bruce Springsteen - Letter To You (Official Video)